Editor's note: this work contains scenes of incest or incest content.
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This story introduces a number of people who appear in later installments and stand-alone stories. Friends and family. Not a lot of sex to start, so if you're looking for climax right out of the gate, this one's probably not for you. And just so we're clear up front, everybody's fictitious and everybody's over eighteen.
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The little club about twenty miles south of Jackson was packed. Our band had developed something of a local following and our mix of driving bluesy covers and jazz flavored originals had almost everybody on their feet. Bodies were too close to call what was going on dancing, but most of the people were moving and seemed to be having a good time freely bumping and rubbing up against each other. We were half way through our second set and I was in the zone, improvising on keyboards while my best friend Sal blasted out leads on his old '63 Rickenbacker that were quickly becoming the stuff of local legend. I'm Jaymes, by the way. But pretty much everybody calls me Jamie.
Our regular "entourage" occupied their regular spot, a six-top table down front, just off the corner of stage right. Comprised of my twin cousins Pete and Laurel (who we called Scooter), and two of Scooter's girlfriends, Bobbi and Karla, "the crew" could be described at any given time as friends, groupies, roadies, or any combination thereof. The girls also sang back-up if we were doing anything in the Leon Russell or Joe Cocker genre. Pete, who refused to sing in front of people, functioned as fan, critic, and an extra stage-side bouncer if needed.
Bobbi, the tall leggy redhead, had hair that came well past her shoulders and was almost long enough to cover her boobs in front. She was light complected with an array of freckles and startling green eyes. I guess, if pressed, I'd describe her as gorgeously cute in a young Joni Mitchell-esqe way. Bobbi was in a zone all her own, her body moving in ways that could only be understood as part of the music. The low cut black and gold mini-dress she wore was tight enough to hold her bra-less tits in place while showing off some definite nipple, and just long enough to cover her ass if she didn't move. She was moving.
Her best friend Karla showed up in a little white number that was perfect on her shorter more compact form and her darker Mexican/Cherokee complexion. She had jaw length jet black hair and fiery dark brown eyes. Her smile was what got me. It lit up her face and told you she was capable of almost anything on a dare. One of those rare people who loved life deeply and loved it freely, willing to take anyone willing along for the ride. A seriously plunging neckline showed quite a bit of her ample cleavage and teased the rest. Shorter than Bobbi, with a bit more hip and ass, Karla's dress came down to mid-thigh, but was split up both sides and held together by gold and white laces. Karla was dancing near near Bobbi but not with her, moving with a sexy grace all her own and hardly ever taking her eyes off Sal.
Scooter wore cowboy boots and a pair of barely there cut-off jeans with one of those white tee shirt things that had been slashed to show more skin than cloth. Being my cousin and given our family, we had grown up skinny-dipping together and had been casually nude around each other since we were little. Didn't think anything of it. When I saw her lean perfectly proportioned dancer's body poured into that outfit though, I had to keep reminding myself, "Cousin! Cousin!" The problem was...she knows me. And she'll tease if she thinks she can get me hard. When she saw me looking, she grinned and shook her boobs at me. Then checked my crotch. Not that we've ever done anything sexual. Just because it amuses her. And because she can. She's Scooter.
We brought our three "backup singers" up for the last part of the set, a medley and encore of "Stranger in a Strange Land" and "Feelin' Alright?" that jammed for over half an hour before ending with "A Little Help from My Friends". After the show, we all hung out just waiting for the stage buzz to wear off and talked with folks until last call. Somewhere around 1:30 am. By that point we were all pretty much just exhausted. Izzy and Frank, our drummer and bass player, were already breaking down and loading their equipment into Frank's pickup. Pete, Sal and I started doing the same.
Scooter, Bobbi and Karla wanted to help and pretended to be mad because we wouldn't let them risk ruining their sexy outfits carrying gear. Which led to the police being called when the three of them decided to simultaneously strip off right there in the alley, beside Pete's van, and change into the "work clothes" jeans and t-shirts they had brought. None of them had worn underwear. Not to be outdone, Izzy, Frank, Sal and I did the same. Izzy and Frank into jeans. Sal and I into cargo shorts. None of us put on shirts (it was still 86 degrees out) and I don't think any of us had worn underwear either. Pete, who didn't need to change, just watched. Entertained but not surprised. By the time the police arrived, everyone was fully clothed and innocently carrying or loading instruments and amps. Our interaction with the authorities only held us up for a few minutes. No charges. Just a half-smiling admonishment to avoid annoying the neighbors.
We all left at the same time. A little after 2:30 am. Izzy and Frank drove home to their house. Well, their mom's garage...where they lived. The rest of us drove to my parents' farm, where I lived in part of a smaller barn that I had converted the summer after I turned seventeen. It had everything I needed for all six of us to sleep comfortably if nobody was too bent on modesty.
We pulled in by The Barn around quarter after four. Pete and Scooter in the van. Bobbi, Karla, Sal and I in my '59 Bonneville. Got out. Decided to leave the stuff in the vehicles overnight. Went inside and started handing out beers. Sal headed immediately to a bookshelf with all my stories and idea notebooks on it. He took down the cigar box he knew was there. Pulled out a pipe and a tiny tupperware thing of my mom's "special herb". Filled it. Lit it.
"So," he said loud enough to get everyone's attention. "It's already almost 4:30 and none of us are gonna be able to sleep right away. It's hot and we're crashing in a barn tonight. We're wound up and tired. And did I mention it's hot. Who wants to hit the quarry?"
Everyone knew the quarry on the back corner of my parents' farm. Surrounded by a circle of grass and shielded by woods on all sides, Pete and Scooter and I had skinny dipped there since we learned to swim. Sal joined in after he and I became friends...after he figured out that my adorable cousin really didn't care if he saw her adorable assets. Bobbie and Karla had heard stories.
Bobbi and Karla were the wild cards. Neither had been to the farm before, much less the quarry. Karla was Bobbi's friend and had been part of "the crew" for about eight weeks. Bobbi was Scooter's friend and had been around a lot longer. She had adopted us after the very first gig she attended. Scoot invited her to come hear the band and some preppy looking guy kept trying to buy them drinks. Finally, Pete saw him put something in her coke. Pete signaled for a quick break and filled us in. We flagged security who confronted the guy who denied everything and called Bobbi a lying whore. Sal reached right past the two bouncers and popped the guy in the mouth. That was when his friends got involved. By the time it was all over, the preppy and three of his friends were taken away in cuffs along with a sample of Bobbi's drugged soft drink. Sal, a beast at 6 ft 7 in and 230 pounds, came out relatively unscathed. Pete and I had some bruises and such and the paramedics told me to get some stitches in my right cheek just below my eye. I didn't. So anyway, Scooter had loved us already but that was the night Bobbi decided that we were her people.
"Just so I'm straight on this," Karla smiled, "you guys really do just peel down and swim naked with each other back there?"
"Yep," Scooter answered.
